That Black-Haired Boy
by SybilltheSeer
Summary: Harry, from Mrs. Weasley's POV.


**That Black-Haired Boy**

 **A/N: Okay, so I've had this fic on my computer for a long time, and now I've finally finished it. This might be my favorite of all the fanfics I've written. For a while now, I've had this headcanon that Harry wore his Weasley sweater the day he came home from Hogwarts after his first year. It just seemed like something cute that 11-year-old Harry might do (he's feeling sad that he has to go back to Privet Drive, he doesn't want to put on his oversized muggle clothes again, but this sweater is a piece of muggle clothing that actually fits him. It makes him feel loved and happy, so even though it's not sweater season, he decides to wear it anyway). It would also explain why he remembered to thank Mrs. Weasley for the sweater nearly 6 months after Christmas (although, maybe he would have remembered anyway – he was very excited to have received Christmas presents for the first time after all). I also thought it would be interesting to see from Mrs. Weasley's POV when she meets Harry the first few times. Anyway, I won't spoil the story. Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. I am not J. K. Rowling, therefore I do not own Harry Potter.**

Molly Weasley knew he was famous. She knew his story by heart. But she could only think of her first impression of him at King's Cross Station near Platform 9 ¾. As they always say, first impressions last - and Harry Potter's most certainly did. To her, he was just "that little black-haired boy" with the bright green eyes. And he was alone. That was the part that stuck with her. Before she knew who he was, she didn't understand why, but now she understood. It didn't make any difference to her though, knowing his name - to her, he was just a lonely child in need of a mother.

All throughout her youngest son's first year at Hogwarts, she learned more about Harry Potter through her son's letters. It seemed that Ron was now fast friends with Harry, and she loved hearing about their adventures. Ron could be flaky sometimes, but there were a few letters where he let slip some things about his new best friend that were more important than Ron seemed to realize. Molly remembered one letter that stuck with her more than the others:

 _Dear Mum,_

 _How're you? I can't wait for the Christmas holidays. Only about a week left of lessons! I got your last letter, and yes, I'll be fine staying at school for the break. Harry's staying too! It's going to be brilliant. Speaking of Harry, he said he wasn't expecting any presents, and I was wondering if you could send him something for me? He seemed okay with it, but I thought it would be fun to surprise him. I wonder why he wouldn't get any presents from his aunt and uncle? Also, PLEASE DON'T MAKE MY SWEATER MAROON THIS YEAR!_

 _Love,_

 _Ron_

That poor child! She had to wonder along with her son: why on earth wouldn't his aunt and uncle send him something for Christmas? But there was no time to think about that now, Molly told herself, as she grabbed her knitting needles and began to search through her vast collection of yarn. She knew exactly what she was going to send Harry for Christmas, but she needed to start now if it was going to be ready on time. She paused for a moment in her search and thought back to when she met him the first time. In her mind's eye she could clearly see the small, thin boy with jet black hair in the oversized clothing; but what she remembered most about him was his eyes: bright emerald green - his most prominent feature. His eyes were so big, and the color of green so bright, that the rest of his face seemed even thinner in contrast. She knew exactly what color of yarn to use.

The school year was coming to a close, and Molly couldn't wait to have her boys home again. Yes, it was wonderful to have been able to spend more time with her only daughter the past few months, but Molly was used to the joyful chaos that ensued when she had all her children at home. It could get frustrating sometimes, but as of now, she missed it - she missed them - and she was ready for them to come home.

She waited patiently at Platform 9 ¾, and finally, the train pulled into the station. Squinting, Molly looked around the smoky platform, searching for any sign of her red-haired sons; first came the twins, and finally Ron appeared, coming toward her through the smoke, talking fast to a familiar looking someone. Harry was still recognizable, but with some very noticeable differences. He wasn't wide-eyed and nervous-looking like when she had first met him; on the contrary, he was smiling wide as he listened to whatever tall tale Ron was repeating to him. He wasn't nearly as scrawny, and his clothes weren't the same oversized rags he had been wearing that one fateful day. In fact, Molly recognized what he was wearing immediately. Despite the warm weather, Harry Potter was wearing her own hand knitted sweater made from emerald green yarn, and, just like Molly had predicted, it brought out his eyes perfectly.

By the time they reached her, Ron had stopped talking, but Harry's eyes still sparkled. "Busy year?" Molly said, smiling down at them, and it was Harry who responded.

"Very," he said. Then he added, smiling shyly, "Thanks for the fudge and the sweater Mrs. Weasley."

"Oh, it was nothing dear!"

What a sweet child – nearly six months after Christmas, and he was still remembering to thank her. As Molly and her family bid Harry farewell, as they walked away from the Platform, the image in her mind of the scrawny, poorly clad, miserable child she had first met at the train station was replaced by this new image of the young sweet boy with the messy black hair, looking happy and well-fed, and wearing her sweater that matched his bright green eyes perfectly.

Two months into summer, Molly was worried. Ron had been telling her for weeks now about his failed attempts to contact Harry. At first she had brushed him off ("Just be patient Ron! He'll answer soon enough!"), but now his concern was rubbing off on her. What if there _was_ something wrong? Was Harry alright?

A few days later, after several nights of worry for the young boy she'd only ever met twice in her life, Molly woke up to find three of her sons gone. Her first thought was that they'd decided to rise early to play quidditch in the orchard, but after going outside to check, it was clear that she was mistaken. Now frantic, Molly hurried around the Weasley property checking every place the boys could possibly be, even taking time to check the shed, where she found that, not only were her three boys gone – the car was too. Finally putting the pieces together, she went back inside the house. All she could do now was watch and wait; and so she did, all the meanwhile cooking breakfast to distract herself from her worry.

Several minutes later, Molly heard the sound of an engine, and she ran to the window, peeping through the curtains, to see the Ford Anglia car flying into the front yard like a plane coming in for landing. Soon the car came to a stop, the engine sounds subsided, and out climbed Ron, Fred, George, and someone else that looked quite familiar…

Before Molly could process who the fourth person was, however, she had stormed outside in a rage. Marching across the lawn toward the boys, she began to shout angrily. "Have you any idea how worried I've been? Beds empty! No note! Car gone – could have crashed – out of my mind with worry – did you care? – never, as long as I've lived – you wait until your father gets home, we never had trouble like this from Bill or Charlie or Percy…you could have died, you could have been seen, you could have lost your father his _job_ …" On and on she ranted, until she finally calmed down enough to fully recognize the fourth boy. It was Harry Potter. But she could see now why she hadn't recognized him immediately. He most definitely wasn't the well-fed, smiling boy in the green sweater that she had remembered from the last time she had seen him. No. Now, he looked rather frightened, and he backed away when she turned to him, glancing warily (albeit quickly) at the wooden spoon she held in her right hand. He was back to wearing his old worn, baggy muggle clothes that she had seen him wearing the first time she had met him, but not only were they old, raggedy, and far too big for him - they also seemed to be covered in what looked like pudding stains. His dark hair, too, seemed more messy than usual – it was unbrushed, and like his clothes, seemed matted with dried, sticky pudding. What on earth had happened to the poor boy? She spoke to him, and now she softened her voice, seeing how nervous he looked. "I'm very pleased to see you, Harry, dear. Come in and have some breakfast."

Deciding that Harry might talk to her and explain what had happened once he was a bit more comfortable and settled in, Molly decided not to question the boy about his appearance. Rather, she settled for dishing up a large helping of sausages and fried eggs which she placed before Harry, his eyes widening hungrily. "Arthur and I have been worried about you, too. Just last night we were saying we'd come and get you ourselves if you hadn't written back to Ron by Friday. But really, flying an illegal car halfway across the country – anyone could have seen you – "

"It was cloudy, Mum!" said Fred.

"They were starving him, Mum!" said George.

Molly sincerely hoped this was an exaggeration, although Harry did look quite a bit thinner than usual. Honestly, it really did seem as though Harry's aunt and uncle were mistreating him, but it seemed impossible that if they were, Dumbledore wouldn't know about it. And if Dumbledore knew Harry Potter was being mistreated by his only living relatives, surely he would do something about it…

Molly tried to put it out of her mind, but there were moments she just couldn't help worrying and wondering. She eventually discovered why Harry had been covered in pudding when he arrived (Harry told her everything he had told Ron about the house elf and the pudding disaster), but if anything, hearing the story just made her worry more. Being locked in his room for four days as punishment for ruining a pudding seemed a little severe to Molly; not only that, but the fact that Harry had still been covered in pudding when he arrived at her house gave her the impression that he hadn't even been allowed out of his room long enough to shower for the entirety of his punishment. This troubled her, but she decided not to press Harry further. Harry seemed hesitant to talk about his home life, and she didn't want to make him uncomfortable or destroy any small amount of trust Harry may have developed towards her. Molly tried desperately to convince herself that if anything was seriously wrong, Dumbledore would do something about it. It was Dumbledore's first priority to keep Harry safe after all. And that's what it all came down to, didn't it? Did she trust Dumbledore? Of course she did: because if she couldn't trust Dumbledore, who could she trust?


End file.
